


Rule One

by thedevilchicken



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Just the Tip, Just the Tip turns into More than the Tip, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: They only had one rule.





	Rule One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



They had one rule: just the tip and no more than that. Just the tip couldn't count as actual, real penetration. No one could judge them for that. 

They had that rule before they thought about doing much more than just watching each other. They hashed it out sometime between the time Alexios blundered in to find Brasidas with one hand around his cock and yesterday, about which Alexios is currently trying hard not to think. 

But he thinks he remembers every time they've done something that's a bit more than people would call friendly. He's definitely thought about those times often enough. 

\---

"I wasn't expecting guests," Brasidas said, his cheeks flushed but his eyes amused, the day Alexios walked into his house without a knock and caught him at it. He was sitting at the table with his tunic hitched up underneath his arms and one foot up on a chair. He had one hand squeezing at his balls and one fist wrapped tight around his thick erection. It was a surprise to say the least. 

"And I wasn't expecting a show," Alexios replied. He gestured in his direction with both hands, at his current unusual state of undress. 

"Did you think because I'm older than you are that I don't have... _needs_?" Brasidas asked. He was teasing - there was a smile on his face - but his hands hadn't moved away and he definitely, _definitely_ , hadn't covered up. He hadn't asked him to leave. He was just sitting there, skin flushed, exposed. Alexios watched a drop of moisture gather at the tip of Brasidas' cock. He could feel his own cock start to fill in response to that, which he had to admit wasn't completely unexpected, underneath his tunic.

"I thought Spartan men didn't have _needs_ ," he replied. He closed the door behind him and then sat himself down on an empty seat at the table, knees parted, hands to thighs. He raised his brows. "I thought you had your shields and spears and phalanxes and didn't need anything else." 

Brasidas laughed warmly, if a little breathlessly. "How do you think we Spartan men learn to handle our spears so well?" he asked..

"I don't know. But I think you're going to tell me."

Brasidas quirked his brows and smiled. " _Practice_ ," he joked, and he gave his cock a couple of long, deliberate strokes to make his point. The movement drew Alexios' gaze down between his thighs; it lingered there on that glint of moisture still at the tip as Brasidas drew his foreskin back to expose the head completely, before he forced himself to look back up. His face felt warm. His mouth felt dry

Alexios squeezed hard at his own thighs as if that might manage to steady him, though the faint frown that popped up on Brasidas' face said he'd noticed his white knuckles. His hands at his thighs utterly failed to steady him. That, at least, wasn't a surprise. What was was that although Brasidas was still frowning, and although his hands went still again, he _still_ didn't move them away.

"You should show me this _practice_ ," Alexios said, though he had to clear his throat and begin again. "I might learn something." 

So Brasidas, wary as his expression turned, did precisely that. He stroked himself as Alexios sat there like a lump and watched him. And, every now and then, Alexios looked up to find him watching him, too, till there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind what Brasidas was thinking about, at least no more than he doubted what he was thinking about himself. Alexios was thinking about kneeling there on the floor between Brasidas' thighs and running his hands up his bare legs to his bare waist. He was thinking about putting his mouth on Brasidas' cock, about taking him in right to the coarse hairs at the base, and sucking till he came; the way Brasidas looked when Alexios licked his lips, he was thinking about that, too. 

When he came, with a low kind of groan through his tightly clenched teeth, Brasidas reached for a cloth he'd placed conveniently nearby and gave himself a cursory wipe. He let his tunic down from where he'd trapped it underneath his arms, put both feet on the floor, and clapped both hands against his thighs. 

"So, did you learn anything?" he asked, after an almost awkward moment's silence. 

"Well, you have excellent technique," Alexios replied. He stood, his cock still distractingly and almost painfully hard, under his loincloth, underneath his tunic. By the gods, he was too well dressed. "I'll need some time alone to, uh, consider your, uh..." He rubbed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. All appropriate euphemisms apparently escaped him, so he shrugged, arms wide, completely at a loss. Brasidas chuckled; it seemed he understood.

"Of course, you need time to put theory into practice," Brasidas said. "If you need any more advice, Alexios, you know where to find me. I'll be happy to--" He raised his brows. "-- _instruct_." And maybe he was aiming for lighthearted, but his face was still flushed from what he'd done. Maybe he was aiming for teasing, but he'd still just made himself come while Alexios watched. And Alexios had just told him exactly what he planned to do once he had some privacy, if not in so many words. It really didn't feel like teasing. He wasn't sure it had since the moment he'd walked in and hadn't had the sense to leave again.

Then Alexios left, but as he made his way home he knew he really had learned something: it turned out Brasidas had just as much interest in him as he had in Brasidas. 

Later, as he closed his eyes and stroked himself, he thought that was something worth knowing.

\---

The next time was just a few days later. 

They were on their way to go hunting not far from the city when they came across a bandit camp set up totally brazenly in the woods nearby. It might have been simpler for Alexios to take care of the issue alone, quickly and quietly, but the two of them strode into the camp together, through the front entrance, with their weapons drawn. For a few glorious minutes it was just like being back in Korinth, at the Monger's burning warehouse where they'd met, except Brasidas called, "Aren't you finished yet, misthios?" and Alexios laughed and called back, "I slowed down just for you, old man!" Brasidas grinned. It was better than Korinth.

And when they were done, panting and bloody, when the bandits were dead at their feet and all their newly-released prisoners were fleeing, they stepped up close to one another. Brasidas threw down his shield and his spear. Alexios threw down his spear and his sword. His hands were tacky with blood that wasn't his. He was hard underneath his armour and he could tell that Brasidas was, too. For a second, he thought they'd grasp at each other, at each other's wrists, the clasps of armour, braided hair. He thought they'd pull each other close, then closer, harder, that they'd pull each other down, and it wouldn't matter who did what to whom just as long as they did _something_. But all they did was catch their breath until that moment passed. They retrieved their discarded weapons, then they left. Alexios, for his part, could have shouted out loud from frustration.

Unsure if Brasidas was following, frankly not even really caring if he was, Alexios made his way to the stream that he could hear running somewhere nearby. He knelt on the low bank to dip his hands in the slow-flowing water and then decided fuck it, _fuck it_ , he wasn't trekking around Lakonia with aching balls for the rest of the day. He pulled off his armour and the tunic he was wearing underneath it. He took off his loincloth and he sat there on his heels by the stream in just his greaves and his sandals, like he'd lost some kind of bet. He had the shaft of his broken spear in one hand and the shaft of his stiff cock in the other, his knees spread so wide that his balls almost met the grass. After what had just happened at the camp, he almost felt like fucking himself with the blunt end of his spear, just to take the edge off. 

"You know, there are bears around here," Brasidas said. 

Alexios glanced up at him, back over his shoulder. "If you've never killed a bear while naked, I swear you've never lived," he replied, halfway between jocular and wry. 

Brasidas chuckled, and he hopped over to the far side of the narrow stream. He sat himself down on the big flat rock just opposite Alexios, his feet on the pebbles by the water, his sandals getting lightly splashed. In a few deft tugs, he had his own loincloth off, though the rest of his clothing perfectly remained intact. A few more deft tugs and his cock was fully erect, standing up between his thighs when he pulled his tunic up. Alexios knows he's not small himself, but he could see Brasidas was a fraction longer, and a fraction thicker, and if there hadn't been a stream between them then he might have tempted to reach out and wrap his hand around Brasidas' cock instead of his own. He wondered if Brasidas might have let him.

As it was, they both stroked themselves while they watched each other. Brasidas came first, over the pebbles at his feet; Alexios wasn't far behind, spending himself in the grass between his knees. Then they stood and Brasidas crossed the stream, loincloth hanging from one hand, and stepped up close enough to squeeze Alexios' bare shoulder with one warm hand. The touch sent a shiver through him, and a pool of fresh heat right down to his stupid cock. Alexios couldn't help but notice he was still very obviously naked, except for the footwear he hadn't bothered taking off. He couldn't help but notice how he wanted Brasidas' rough hands on every inch of his bare skin. 

"We should get back," Brasidas said. "We should probably report the camp full of dead bandits before they start to rot." 

Alexios nodded. He dressed. They went back into the city, and they didn't talk about it but if they had, he wasn't sure he would've known what to say. 

The hunting trip hadn't exactly been a resounding success. But when he settled down to sleep that night, he couldn't call it a total failure, either.

\---

They actually managed to hunt a few days later. It went well, and they returned to the city in high spirits, but afterwards Brasidas had obligations with his syssitia and Alexios returned home alone. It didn't seem like a completely ideal end to what had been a very good day.

Myrrine was visiting friends in the south, and Kassandra was away learning seamanship with Barnabas, though Alexios didn't envy him or the rest of the crew that particular task. Nikolaos and Stentor had their own syssitia to attend, like good little Spartans. Alexios had the house to himself and once he'd eaten, he settled on the doorstep to sharpen his sword in the lamplight. It was a warm night, and the breeze felt good, and honestly he hadn't felt that kind of peace in years. Of course, that did mean he felt completely peaceful; there was definitely something on his mind. 

He was surprised when Brasidas approached - he knew from experience with his pater and Stentor that nights at the syssitia could last into the morning, and they'd barely been gone more than an hour or so. Alexios stood, and he almost asked what he was doing there, but the look on Brasidas' face changed his mind about that. Even in the lamplight, even on his friend's face, the meaning of that look was obvious. 

When they went inside, they did so without a word. Alexios led him into the next room, where his bedroll was rolled out across the floor for when he felt like sleeping. He pulled off his tunic, stripped himself bare, and knelt. Brasidas did the same, quickly, facing him, kneeling so close by that their thighs almost touched. 

They touched themselves, the only sound in the room skin on skin and their strained breath. When Brasidas came, he clamped one hand down over his mouth to keep from shouting out; when Alexios came, he bit his bottom lip so hard it almost bled just so he'd stay quiet. His come spattered against Brasidas's thigh and he watched Brasidas run one thumb through it then lick it clean. He felt like he could almost have come again just from the sight of that, but they wiped themselves down, and they stood, and they dressed. Without a word, Brasidas left him there alone. 

It was the same the following night, and the night after that. When Nikolaos and Stentor were gone, Brasidas appeared - they went into the next room, and they stripped, and they watched each other. 

On the third night, after, still catching their breath, Alexios ran his fingers through his wayward come at Brasidas' thigh and, after a moment's hesitation, Brasidas took his wrist and sucked his fingertips clean, each one in turn. On the fourth night, Brasidas ducked his head and licked his own come from Alexios' abdomen, hot and slow, before he dressed and left. The fifth night, when they knelt, Brasidas paused then reached for Alexios' cock instead of his own; Alexios did the same, and they stroked each other slowly. The sixth night, they rubbed their cocks together with one hand each around them, gripping at each other's shoulders from the feel of it. He'd never taken things so slowly in his life before. He'd never had a lover for so long before. Still, it was Brasidas; _lover_ didn't seem to fit, not quite.

The eighth night, Alexios pulled him down on top of him and they thrust against each other till they came like that. The ninth, as they lay there, Brasidas' hips between Alexios' thighs, Alexios' hands gripping tight at his arse, his fingertips strayed between his cheeks; Brasidas stifled a groan with his mouth pressed up to Alexios' neck and let him rub the rim of his tight hole. But then, in the daytime, it was just as if nothing had happened at all. They talked and they trained and they hunted, they rode their horses, and they were friends just as they'd always been.

On the tenth night, Alexios found himself wondering what excuse he'd given for leaving the syssitia so many nights in a row, but he didn't ask - he just let Brasidas in and, after a moment where they lingered there just inside the closed front door, Brasidas pushed Alexios back against it, roughly. He took a loud breath against Alexios' neck, leaning heavily against him, and Alexios wasn't sure what to make of it until Brasidas kissed him. It was hard and hot and sudden, mouth on mouth, with one hand tightening in his hair. 

"We need rules," Brasidas said, his voice strained, against Alexios' throat. Then he stepped back. He sat down heavily at the table and he ran his hands over his hair, gave his braid a couple of sharp tugs as if that might be able to ground him somehow. He looked at him, with his serious face, his matter-of-face face, his commander-of-the-forces face, a lot like he was instructing his men and not talking to his friend, or whatever it was that they were to each other at that particular point in time. "We need rules for this, Alexios." 

"What kind of rules?" Alexios asked. He didn't move from the door. He just leaned there against it, his head resting back against it, with his hands tucked in at the base of his spine. 

"No penetration." Brasidas clenched and unclenched his jaw. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "This is Sparta, Alexios. There are limits. Grown men don't fuck each other. _We_ can't fuck each other." 

Alexios frowned and pointedly said nothing about how that was hardly unique to Spartan morals but hadn't seemed to stop any of the other men he'd slept with. He pointedly said nothing about how close they'd come to doing exactly that, or the fact he'd wanted them to, or the fact he'd thought Brasidas had. 

"So, how much is too much?" he asked instead. 

"I don't understand." 

"Are you wearing anything underneath that tunic?"

"No." 

"Turn around and bend over." 

Brasidas frowned, clearly not quite sure where this was going, but he turned and bent down over the table just like he'd been told to. Alexios, with remarkably little idea what in the name of all the gods he thought he was doing, went closer. He ran his hands over the backs of Brasidas' thighs, letting his tunic catch at his wrists so they'd drag it up and bare his arse. Then he parted Brasidas' cheeks and rubbed at his exposed hole with the pad of one thumb. 

"Is this too much?" he asked. 

Brasidas shook his head. "No," he replied. 

Alexios leaned forward a fraction, with Brasidas' cheeks spread wide. He spat against his hole then rubbed there with his thumb again, more firmly. "Too much?"

"No." 

He leaned down lower. He rubbed his prickly jaw against one of Brasidas' cheeks and then let his tongue come out against his hole; he teased at his rim with the tip for a moment and then licked him, hot and flat. "Too much?"

"No." 

He stood. He rubbed the length of his cock between Brasidas' cheeks, over his hole, in a handful of long, slow thrusts. He could see the way Brasidas was gripping white-knuckled at the table. That almost made him want him more.

"Too much?"

"No." 

So, he pushed the tip of his cock to Brasidas' hole and let it rest there. 

"Too much?"

"No." 

So, he pressed there, firmly. He flexed his hips. He felt the tip, just the tip, push inside. He felt the heat of him, and the tightness. He wanted more but stopped.

"Too much?" 

"No more than that." 

Alexios swallowed. "I can work with that," he said.

It seemed almost a strange place to draw the line, at least to Alexios, but that line seemed clear enough - he'd go that far and no more, if that was where Spartan men needed to stop to soothe their morals. He supposed he was Spartan again, too, so he could make that work for him. There were just so many things he still had to get used to, all the customs he'd either forgotten or never learned before he'd had to leave. Very few of them made any sense at all.

So, that night, he rubbed himself between Brasidas' cheeks and came at the cleft of his arse. He watched his come drip down to Brasidas' balls before he went down on his knees and licked it all away. When Brasidas turned, his cock was huge and hard and Alexios, still on his knees, leaned forward and took the tip of it into his mouth. He licked there, just the tip, gripping Brasidas' hips and teasing with his tongue until he came, too. 

Not long after that day, Myrrine came home. Not long after that, Brasidas received orders; he was ordered to go north with his men, to hold the Akrokorinth fort and watch over Spartan interests in Korinthia. They gripped each other's wrists almost too tightly as they said goodbye, and Alexios almost felt like he should give him something, something to remember him by, because the bruise he'd sucked into his thigh under his tunic really didn't count. But the only thing in the world that felt like it was really _his_ and not just something he happened to own was his grandfather's spear, and he was fairly sure his mater wouldn't have been impressed to find he'd given it away. 

Alexios stayed in Sparta for five days after that, ten, but he was restless and his mater saw that. She sent word to Barnabas and sent Alexios away with a smile and a list of jobs he should take care of, though that proved more difficult than it sounded with Kassandra still on board. 

Once or twice over the months, maybe three times, or maybe more like seven, Alexios took the Adrestia up the coast to Korinthia. Once or twice, or maybe more than that, he asked for their leader by name. Brasidas could have had a villa of his own, but he lived with his men in the fort; when Alexios came calling, they drank together in the small room that served as both his office and sleeping quarters, talking for hours, or else behind closed doors Brasidas would kiss him, and undress him, and make a map of his new scars. He didn't mind explaining where he'd got them because somehow, Brasidas always believed him.

More than a year passed that way, then more than two. More than once, on his travels, Alexios' thoughts returned to the man he'd left in Korinth. And then, when he arrived at the fort late in the third year, it was Stentor that met him at the gates. Time hadn't improved their relationship by very much, not like it had somehow managed to with him and Kassandra, but he did at least tell him where Brasidas was: he'd been recalled to Sparta, and Stentor was his replacement. 

Four nights ago, he returned to Sparta, and Brasidas was already there. Two days ago, they went out hunting; yesterday, on their way back, they were caught out in a rainstorm. Inside their hastily-erected tent, Alexios took off his rain-soaked clothes and helped Brasidas out of his. He pulled him down on top of him, damp skin on skin, and Brasidas pressed his hardening cock against him, maybe accidentally. When he eased Alexios' thighs up and fucked him with the tip of it, pushing into him over and over, pushing in again and again, that wasn't an accident. Alexios clenched his jaw and clenched his fists and imagined another inch of him. He imagined another two. He imagined all of him.

"Just put it in," he said, tightly. 

"Alexios..."

"You're already fucking me, Brasidas. This is stupid. Just do it." 

So Brasidas pushed forward, pushed deeper, one off-kilter thrust and he was in him to the hilt. Alexios groaned out loud, letting his head drop back heavily against the ground, and Brasidas fucked him, slow and hard and deep, gripping at his thighs. It was exactly what he'd wanted since the start.

Alexios supposed there was a first time for everything but once Brasidas had groaned and come inside him, it occurred to him to wonder what Brasidas might have thought of him because of it. Spartan morals had never made much sense. 

As the rain eased up outside, as they pulled down the tent and headed for the city, he couldn't bring himself to ask.

\---

They had one rule. Just one rule. Yesterday, Alexios broke it. 

Brasidas called by the house on his way to the training grounds and asked Alexios - with his serious face firmly in place - if he'd like to join him. They're walking now, maybe not as close together as they might have done before, and Alexios has to wonder if that's because of him. 

But then, Brasidas stops right in the middle of the path and Alexios frowns as he looks at him. 

"If this is because--" 

"It's because I'm being sent back to Amphipolis." 

"Then yesterday--"

"I meant to ask you to come with me." 

"But I thought--"

Brasidas takes Alexios' arms in both his hands. He moves closer. He cups Alexios' jaw. His thumbs rasp against his stubble then he settles his hands at his shoulders, holding firm.

"How long had you wanted that?" he asks. 

"Honestly?" He smiles wryly as he rests his hands at Brasidas' waist, over his breastplate. "You could have had me in Korinth." He raises his brows significantly. "While the warehouse was still on fire." 

Brasidas chuckles. He smiles. "And I'd have been tempted, though we might have got a little singed." He tugs Alexios a fraction closer. "You could have disagreed with the rule, you know." 

"It seemed important." 

"I was wrong. It seems I've been wrong for some time." He drops his hands again and steps back, his arms wide. He grins. "Come with me. We can stop at Korinth on the way."

It's the easiest thing in the world when he says yes. Then they walk on together.

Alexios has never been good with rules. It turns out Brasidas isn't, either.


End file.
